


Vigil

by stateofintegrity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 16:53:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30007974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: After a difficult OR, Max sits with his Major.
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Vigil

He wants to help. 

He wants to reach out to this proud man. 

Klinger knows he doesn’t really register to Charles. He’s experienced it a little with Captain Hunnicutt, who thinks the idea of his wife working is some kind of sin. And he’s seen everything - every kind of breaking there is - because he’s been here before, helping to stand between these young surgeons and the horrors that rise up to greet them even as the blood washes from their hands. 

He hums the tune the Major’s been listening to lately. Klinger doesn’t have a perfect voice, but his pitch is good and he has an ear for music.

Charles lifts his head, speaks in that voice he adores, drags his name out like a tide drawing in its power before crashing down in the way he’s come to really like. “Max?”

“Figured that’d get your attention. Wanted to remind you it’s still yours - music. Blood doesn’t mean anything to notes on the page. Death can’t take that from you, Major - not the music or the way it makes you feel.”

He blinks his pale eyes. “Thank you, Maxwell. That was, ah, insightful.”

“Just’ trying to help.”

“Is that why you are still here?”

The young Corporal would bet anything that five minutes ago Charles didn’t even know  _ where _ here was. “Uh-huh. Sometimes you need somebody to stick close and keep the dark out. Remind you it’s not all death and dying. You saved a lot of people tonight.”

Charles stares at the outfit into which he has changed. “I - I like that color. The yellow.”

“Thanks. I try.” 

“You succeed, I should say.” He manages something that will become a smile when it gains strength enough.

Max nods at him, encouraging him. “Come get a cup of tea with me?”

“I may play some music?”

He grins. “‘Course.”

***

They meet shortly after, Charles with his record player, Max putting tea on. He likes the ritual because it allows him to forget, however momentarily, that he is assigned to a M*A*S*H unit in a war. Tea is domesticity, home. 

Charles’s hand shakes enough to rattle the saucer; Max steadies him. “Easy, big fella.”

“I - I don’t know why this is affecting me this way,” the surgeon admits. “I have seen death before this. Before now.” 

“It’s different when you know there’s no reason for it,” Max explains. “They didn’t get sick or have something in ‘em stop working - they got  _ killed _ . Nobody’s ‘sposed to take that lightly. If it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll tell you something selfish of me.”

Charles gestures for him to go on, curious. 

“I wish - I wish somebody could promise it won’t be me. Zipped up in one of those awful bags.”

The image makes the surgeon shudder as he imagines the contrast of yellow fabric and hated black. “I will. I - I am not nearly as good of a man as I often wish, but I am a good surgeon. If anything happens to you here, you will live if I can reach you.”

It sounds better - more earnest and conviction-filled - than the vows his wife took and broke in so short a time. “Thanks.” He tries to make light of this vastness between them. “Never had a personal physician before. You’ll be billing me for years after this is over, probably.”

Charles sees the disconnect between the bright wonder in his eyes and the grin he’s using to keep those dark eyes from welling up. “I would bill the army, Max, and overcharge, I think - but mostly I shall hope that you remain whole and well.” He catches a glimpse of the watch he doesn’t remember securing on his wrist. “It is very late. I should go.”

Max yawns as if on cue, but says, “Stay as long as you want, Major. I like it - not bein’ all alone for a change. I’m scared a lot. Helps to not be by myself, too.”

Charles realizes how young he is. “Tell me, next time you feel that way and I will sit with you as you sat with me tonight, yes?”

Max nods.

That night they sit quietly together, keeping a vigil for the men lost in OR, the men who never made it to the hospital at all - and for the men they used to be. 

The men they become in those long quiet hours are better ones - and better friends. 

End! 


End file.
